Through the Veil
by arthuriangeek
Summary: When Merlin first meets Arthur, he's just a friend among others. But as his feelings grow stronger, he comes to realize that something about Arthur is lingering beneath the surface - something that could change everything.
1. Chapter 1

_It was strange, he reflected sometimes in the weeks and months following that fateful day, how one day, insignificant among so many others, could change so much. How it could tilt the world as he knew it._

_That day had started just like any other, and by midday had transformed beyond belief. But it wasn't those first, trembling hours, not really, not in the long run. It was what came after. In the midst of horror, every procedure was followed by the book. It had to be – there was no time to do anything but react._

_But when the smoke cleared, and it didn't clear for a long time, something had shifted. People were swarming the streets, not sure what to do or how to do it, and all they knew was that they didn't understand. The newspapers told the story in names, numbers, diagrams, but those were mere statistics. No article could encompass the raw frailty that followed that day._

_For the people wandering the streets, lingering among the ruins, nothing was simple anymore. But for him, September 11, 2001 was the day everything became clear in a way it had never been before._


	2. Chapter 2

_"__When sufferings become unendurable the cries are no longer heard." - _Bertolt Brecht

_May 4, 2003_

When the call came, he was already halfway out the door.

He was heading for the car, keys in his hand and a sloppily made sandwich in his mouth as he threw a hurried glance at his watch. When he heard the signal, he groaned, and considered letting the machine get it, hovering in the doorway for a few more seconds. But by the time the second signal reverberated through the hall, sounding shrill and louder than usual, he'd reluctantly released the door handle and made his way over to the phone.

He hoped whoever it was, he could get rid of them quickly.

"Tom," he said in the phone, more short than usual, not bothering to sit down as his fingers tapped against his leg.

"Thomas Smith?"

"That's right," he answered, and the tapping stopped.

"My name is Sean Davis. I'm Commander of your daughter's legion in Afghanistan."

Tom nodded, only clearing his throat when he remembered he was on the phone. "I see," he commented, because it seemed rude not to say anything. "I see," he repeated, not knowing what else to say, and wondering why his voice sounded so hollow.

"Sir," the voice on the other end of the line said, "I'm afraid we have a problem."

_August 17, 2003_

A dull thud pulled Merlin from his light doze, and he wearily opened his eyes to determine what had woken him. Before he'd even had the time to shift, the speakers crackled, and the light above his head was switched off.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in a few minutes we will be landing in Washington D.C. Please remain seated until we have come to a complete stop. On behalf of our captain and the rest of the crew onboard, I thank you for choosing US Airways. Have a pleasant day," the stewardess chirped from the front of the plane.

Blinking himself into alertness, Merlin sat up properly in his seat and rubbed his eyes. Retrieving his open book from the floor – a thumbed paperback copy of _Angela's Ashes_ – he closed it without bothering to memorize which page he was on. He grimaced, relieving his cricked neck as he glanced out the window at the city just becoming visible, far beneath the clouds. The afternoon sun glittered in the Potomac river stretched out by the city, cutting the capitol off from the Arlington cemetery.

The cluster of steel and glass in the heart of the city was a rather strange sight after these past weeks, he reflected, noting the sensation of the braided band around his wrist. The uneven, hand-made band was difficult to ignore, Aldanya having dug through her mother's storage to get her hands on the most brightly colored strings she could find, and proudly presented him with her handiwork the day before he went home. For ten eventful weeks, the most advanced architecture he'd laid eyes on had been the small guest house he'd been staying in with the other volunteers in Enkokidongoi. Which was fine – he hadn't been putting money away for a year to live in splendor. Still, the transition from African poverty and the different way of life, to a new semester at Georgetown, having his head stuffed with course work and the relentless December exam session felt more than a little over whelming.

But truthfully, it was about more than just that. He'd had a job to do in the masai village in Enkokidongoi, just like he did here. The structure from day to day wasn't all that different, even if the greatest responsibility he'd had over there had been whether to play soccer or tag with the kids. He'd had times to keep in the morning, and duties to fulfill during the day. But those ten weeks had also been the first time he'd ever gone so far away from home and not really known what the hell he was getting into. He'd liked the feeling of invincibility, of taking the liberty to decide what he wanted to do and doing it.

It had been less than three months since he got on a plane in West Virginia, waving goodbye to his mother at the gate. And still, after all this, even Washington felt too small.

"Merlin!"

Stepping out in the arrival hall at Washington National Airport, and lugging his battered backpack that had reluctantly survived the flight, Merlin had barely begun trying to locate the signs directing him to the subway, when a warm voice called his name. His book lodged under his arm and his map half-folded in his hands, he looked up, happily surprised to see his uncle waving him over. Crumpling the map, he quickly made his way over to Gaius, relieving himself of the backpack before ducking under the margin dividing them. His uncle reluctantly shook his head at the conduct, offering the backpack discarded on the tile floor a pitying look before turning his attention to Merlin and holding out his arms.

"Welcome home, my boy," Gaius laughed, a proud gleam in his eyes as he embraced Merlin tightly.

"You didn't have to pick me up," Merlin grinned, returning the embrace. "I was going to take the train to your place."

"I can still operate a car, as you very well know. Now pick your things up off the floor, if you would. I certainly will not do _that_ for you."

Pulling back, Gaius ruffled his hair in a manner no one, not even his mother, had done since he was fifteen, and indicated the floor with a curt nod. Merlin couldn't help but laugh, a sudden, clear jitter in the palms of his hands.

It was damn good to be home.

_April 27, 2002_

_"__It's mine – give it!" she giggled, flinging herself towards him on the bed, hands grasping to reach his. He shook his head, moving them out of her reach without effort, laughing at her flailing hands as she tried to climb on top of him._

_"__Nope. Finder's keepers. You always lose it."_

_Settling for straddling him among the pillows, she eventually managed to grab his hands, attempting to pry his fingers up without any result. Finally giving up on the tussle, she sat up, watching him make himself comfortable as he crossed his arms behind his head._

_"__Are you ever gonna give it back?" she questioned, laughter still bubbling up her throat as she thrummed her hands against his chest._

_He shrugged. "I might. If you're ever gonna get the lock fixed."_

_"__I told you, I've done that! It still doesn't close."_

_"__Oh, really? No wonder it escapes that pretty little neck," he concluded, eyes glinting as he looked up at her. An incredulous look spread on her face, before she burst out laughing again, shaking her head as roses bloomed on her cheeks._

_"__You're teasing me."_

_"__Who, me? Never," he denied, an innocent expression on his face which was betrayed by the twitching at the corners of his mouth. Her shoulders shaking, she could barely suppress the chords of laughter bubbling past her lips._

_"__Seriously, though," he started, easing one hand out from under his head to settle it on hers resting on his chest, "you need to get it fixed. I can hand it in to a jeweler so you won't get ripped off."_

_Lips curving in a smile, she sobered, nodding softly as her curls danced around her face. "Thank you."_

_Looking down at their joined hands, her thumb slid out, stroking the back of his hand. Pressing her lips together, she soon looked back up, her twinkling eyes dimmed as she opened her mouth. "When are you heading out again?"_

_A soft sigh escaped his lips as his eyes darted to the side. "One week from now."_

_She nodded, her hands automatically pressing tighter against his chest. "You will be careful out there, won't you?"_

_"__I'm always careful."_

_"__You know what I mean," she insisted gently. "You have nothing to prove to him. Promise me you'll be safe."_

_Releasing a reluctant sigh, he shook his head. "You know I can't promise …"_

_"__Lie to me."_

_Her request trembled between them for one second, two, then he looked back at her. Her uncharacteristically determined gaze met his, and he nodded sharply, hand enveloping hers._

_"__I promise."_

_She swallowed, finally nodding as she took a quiet breath. Still running her thumb along the back of his hand, she let him take hers, his lips meeting her skin in a quick press. Suddenly, before the tingling had even left her hand, she darted forward, making yet another grab at the hand cradling his head. Laughing out loud, he immediately twisted, easing up on the bed as his closed hand flew away. She threw herself after him, the blossoms returning to her cheeks and the pearls to her laughter. _

_"__Give – it – back!"_

_August 20, 2003_

"God damn - ! That's it, we're fucked."

"I hate to break it to you, but we've been fucked since Hitler died."

"Mm," Gwaine grunted in agreement, reluctantly tossing the consol onto the coffee table and grabbing his beer to knock back a frustrated gulp. Merlin sighed and switched the game off, letting the paused frame of their defeat disappear from the TV screen.

Taking in the dim surroundings of the living room, he considered going over to the window to open the curtains, but he couldn't muster the energy – which was absurd considering that for the last three hours, he hadn't moved from the couch. He settled on leaning over and flicking on the lamp on the side table, and couldn't help but grimace as the light spread through the room, illuminating the beer cans on the coffee table, the stack of action DVDs Gwaine had picked out in the misguided belief that they wouldn't spend the entire night in front of the Playstation, and the plates littered with tomato sauce stains and gnawed off pizza crusts. Leaning back on the couch, Merlin eventually turned his head, looking at Gwaine with a questioning frown.

"Have we ever actually played anything _but_ Red Alert?"

Gwaine grimaced, chugging the beer can between his fingers. "Not since I can afford the follow ups. Which, you know, I can't."

"Then why do we still suck at it?"

"Not we – you. You're out of practice."

"Uh, yeah, let's blame African orphans for not having Playstation," Merlin huffed. "I haven't played in months. What's your excuse?"

"No one to play _with_. Apparently, you're the only nerd friend I have," Gwaine commented, leaning back on the couch, shaking his head as if he didn't understand the miserable state of the world. The mood lingered for a few more moments, before he shrugged, settling his feet on the coffee table. "So, speaking of African orphans, how was it out there? And what's with the wrist band?" he added as an afterthought, lifting his brows at the sight of the mishmash of colors.

"One of the kids gave it to me. It took her days and it kind of looks like crap, but … I sort of like it," Merlin shrugged, taking his glass from the table.

"Uh-huh. And she gave you a _rainbow_ bracelet because …?"

Merlin chortled, spluttering his coke over the table before he could stop himself. All Gwaine did was smirk, carelessly throwing a paper towel on the table and letting it soak up the puddle Merlin had made, and by that time, Merlin had settled down and wiped his mouth, shaking his head amusedly. "It's not a – Gwaine, I seriously doubt a five year old in Kenya knows about the pop-cultural meaning of a rainbow. She probably doesn't even know what the word _gay_ means."

"What, in this day and age of embracing queerdom? Of course she does."

"You'd hope so, wouldn't you?" Merlin shook his head, still smiling slightly. "But, yeah, I had a great time. I could have stayed another ten weeks."

Gwaine nodded, a sudden, foreign seriousness on his face. He opened his mouth, hesitating for a moment before he spoke. "How was your mother doing while you were away?"

Merlin bit his lip. He would have liked to say the question came out of the blue, but it really didn't. It was in the back of his mind more often than not, especially during the weeks he had been so far away, and as much as Gwaine came across as a carefree soul, in the two years they'd known each other, Merlin had realized his friend was as loyal as they came. He cared about his friends far beyond what his easy going nature suggested.

"I think she was okay, more or less. She knew I was in a peaceful area – I wouldn't have gone anywhere that wasn't safe. Anyway, she would never have asked me not to go."

Gwaine nodded again, eyes settling on the empty can of beer. Flicking his fingers, he crumpled his beer can, causing a hollow sound as the metal folded in his hand. Despite himself, Merlin laughed, a sharp, sudden laugh. Firmly non repentant, Gwaine lifted his brows, tossing the can in the direction of the trash can on the other side of the room. Of course, the bastard scored.

"And how are you doing?" Gwaine asked next, taking a break from hooping to lean back on the couch, and looked at Merlin.

Merlin shrugged, more to buy himself some time than anything. Truthfully, most of the time, he wasn't really sure. It had been over one year since he last saw his father, and even before then, given the nature of his profession, their chances to spend time together had been brief, with months in between. He wondered if it made sense to still be so attached, when, for all intents and purposes, he had missed his father long before he'd actually lost him.

"I'm fine," he settled on instead, not feeling like opening that can of worms. If he couldn't make sense of his conflicting emotions, there wasn't really much point saddling Gwaine with them. As good a friend as Gwaine was, he wouldn't grasp this.

"Really?"

Merlin ran a hand over his face, simultaneously annoyed and relieved that Gwaine knew him so well. "I don't know. Sometimes I think it will never get better."

"Sure it will," Gwaine told him, his voice an odd blend of casual and insistent. "Just don't give up."

Merlin looked down, picking at his thumb nail without saying anything. A few moments passed until a resolute look settled on his face, and he straightened, looking directly at Gwaine as a grin twitched in the corners of his mouth. "You know what? You're right. Start the game again – this time, we're kicking Stalin's ass."

_August 22, 2003_

The next few days flew by, with Merlin barely noticing. If he hadn't remembered what an excruciating mess filling out paperwork, registering for classes and moving his things into the residence hall had been a year ago, when to top it off, he'd moved to a different state, he might not have known what he was getting himself into this year. But that Sunday night, he found himself as organized as he ever could be, finally finishing moving his stuff in about an hour before going out to dinner with his uncle, ending up at a window table at a French place called Montmartre, listening to Gaius's enthusiastic retelling of a historical non-fiction he'd just read. For once, Merlin actually found the subject interesting.

"No way. That's … Two hundred years in an urn? Really?"

Gaius finished his sip of wine, setting the glass down on the table before shaking his head softly. "Quite so. Naturally, you focus on the whereabouts of the poor child's heart, and not on the genetic break through that solved a mystery dating back to 1795."

Merlin waved him off. "Whatever, you're the doctor. _Polymerase chain reaction_ isn't actually part of my vocabulary."

"All the worse, then," Gaius shrugged, unsuccessfully suppressing a chuckle. "But yes, two hundred years in an urn, thanks to a physician with quick fingers. The book was released last year – quite impressive work. Assuming you're as ignorant about the French Revolution as you are about mitochondrial DNA –" Merlin rolled his eyes – " you might be interested in reading it."

"Sure," Merlin agreed, leaning back and pushing his plate aside, a few strands of pasta left. A few drops of wine glimmered at the bottom of his glass, and he swiped it down before his eyes drifted, settling on the street outside. Nearing nine thirty on a Sunday night, the neighborhood was quiet. The guests dining at the tables on the curb had dropped off without him noticing, the tables cluttered with empty plates and burnt out candles. The sun had set, the best part of summer having already passed, and Merlin couldn't help but feel like somehow, he'd missed it.

"Why do you think he did it?" he asked Gaius, shrugging the melancholy aside.

Gaius lifted his brows. "Why do I think Pelletan stole the heart?" he clarified.

Merlin nodded. "Yeah. Was it just greed, do you think?"

Sighing, Gaius leaned back in the chair, swirling the wine around in his glass for a moment before answering. "Merlin, the more I see of the world, the more I realize nothing, not even greed, is so simple. Our motivations for doing anything are usually far more complex than we like to think. But to answer your question," he continued, "I imagine he realized history was unfolding right in front of him, and he wanted to relish some piece of it, which, admittedly, sounds like ambition," Gaius acknowledged. "Still, speaking as a scientist, if I found myself in that place in that moment in history, it would take some restraint to not, at the very least, entertain the idea."

Merlin nodded thoughtfully. "Mm."

"And considering the political climate in France, any official kindness toward the royal family would have landed him in quite hot water. Taking the heart was likely the only way for him to return some part of the boy to the family."

Before Gaius could say anything else, the waitress returned to their table with the check. Gaius got out his wallet, dismissing Merlin's offer to pay. Merlin relented, studying the lessening clusters of people passing by outside, and before long, the waitress had left, and Gaius clearing his throat called for his attention. Gaius leant forward, looking more cunning than usual. Merlin didn't know whether he should tremble or not.

"So, as we conclude our history lesson for today," Gaius began, "I assume everything is in order for tomorrow."

"God, I should hope so. I've done enough lugging stuff around for ages," Merlin shuddered comically, before shifting to let the waitress remove his plate. "Even you would stagger at the reading list. But yeah, I'm all set."

Gaius chuckled. "Not quite," he said, leaning over to pick up the elegant paper bag by his feet and bringing it up to the table.

"Oh, you mean you're actually going to tell me what you've been carrying around all night?" Merlin said, lifting his brows. Meeting his gaze non committedly, Gaius simply handed him the bag, letting Merlin tip it over and pull out the object concealed by silk paper. Running a hand down the smooth Italian leather, noting his initials in gilded letters in the corner, Merlin sat back, setting the exquisite bag down on the table and firmly ignoring the dangling price tag.

"Well … Now I definitely should have got the check."

"Don't be ridiculous. Gifts are a privilege of the one who gives them, not the one who receives them," Gaius dismissingly said, finishing his wine. "Just accept it and put it to good use. You can't be a respectable teacher and lug your things around in anything less."

Merlin saluted him, before glancing back down at the bag in front of him on the table, taking in the dark brown leather. The lit candle on the table flickered, gleaming in the gilded clasp on the front of the bag.

"I bought it when I was in Tuscany. I couldn't resist. Although," Gaius reflected, as much to himself as to Merlin, "seeing how you treat your luggage, maybe I should have."

Merlin laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, this one's safe," he promised, looking back at his uncle. "Thank you."


End file.
